The Friend
by Biku-sensei-sez-meow
Summary: When a new case seems familiar to our favorite consulting detective, he goes to an old friend to get help. But when this old friend shows up, it's not what is expected. And since when does Sherlock want children? Follow Sherlock and friends on a brand new adventure that has absolutely nothing to do with Moriarty. Ha! Yeah, right! Possible Johnlock, cursing, violence, child abuse.
1. Chapter 1

**Hellooooo~! This is my third fanfiction. Tell me if I should continue of not, but I have plans for this. It may or may not contain Johnlock (Sherlock x John). I'll leave it up to you the readers. Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames are not. Enjoy!**

Lestrade sat brooding at his messy desk, waiting for the arse of a Consulting Detective and his friend to arrive. In front of him lay the files for a new case, one he was sure would interest the sociopath. This was a particularly strange case, in that they had been working on it for a wee and had no suspects. So, at a loss for things to do, he had called up the only person who could even hope to comprehend it. Now, if only he could stop him from insulting every person who rubbed him wrong. Sherlock was his friend... well, in a way... kind of. Well, he liked Sherlock, but there were times when he was just a dick, or didn't even seem human. But still, he needed Sherlock. Only he would be able to figure out something like this.

Donovan rapped her sharp knuckles on his open door. "The freak's here. Shall I send him in?"

Really, he didn't approve of her calling him a freak, but nor did he attempt to stop it.

"Yeah, I suppose," he sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. He heard footsteps and a tall man with curly dark brown hair and icy blue eyes walked in. He had pale skin and cheekbones that could cut diamond. He was followed by a short blonde.

"Lestrade, you sounded urgent. What's different about this one?" Sherlock wasted no time and took to files into his hands. He glanced through them as Lestrade explained, then gave them to John.

"Two people, a husband and wife with no known enemies, managing a decent home, and without children. They turned up dead in their house a week ago. The landlord found them. They'd been dead for a day at least, probably more. The security-"

"You mean you sat on this for a whole week?" Sherlock interrupted. "What was going through your sad little mind? No, don't answer that." He assumed a walking-and-thinking position with his hands steepled under his chin, eyes half lidded.

"Somehow, I don't think he was going to Sherlock," John said flipping through the pages slowly. Lestrade looked for a moment as if he would comment, but continued.

The... security cameras on the nearby buildings were offline for a short time, long enough for the murder to happen. They were-" Lestrade stopped, as if considering what he was about to say.

"What?"

"Sherlock, you should look at this..." John handed him two photographs, each of a brutally mangled and misshapen body. The sight was almost enough to make Sherlock sick. Almost. Neither John nor Lestrade noticed the strange gleam in his bright blue eyes.

"Each of the victims was drugged, but we don't know how. We tested their food and the septic system, and the air. It was all clean. Then they were supposedly beaten with a blunt object, too wide for a crow bar, and too narrow for a bat, so probably a pipe or something of the likes. Their stomachs were slit open and they were stabbed multiple times. I think the only place unharmed was the heart. The faces are all but unrecognizable. We... don't have any suspects as of yet. They left no prints, no DNA, there wasn't a speck of dirt in the house, nothing that could possibly be out of place."

John looked up. "Well, besides the bodies you mean." Lestrade gave him a look, then turned to the unusually silent Sherlock, who had been listening to every word. The tall mans eyes were closed now and he was muttering under his breath, his lips barely moving.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade said worriedly. And Sherlock responded.

"Toothpaste."

Both men looked at him with blank faces. He opened his eyes, a strange glimmer within them.

"Toothpaste," he said again. "Test their toothpaste, and when the results come in, text me. John, with me."

Sherlock swept out of the room, his long black coat flaring out behind him. John hurried to catch up to his friend, still reviewing the files.

"Sherlock, where are we going?" he asked. They stepped outside and the detective hailed a cab. They got in and Sherlock told the cabbie, "Abingdon-Carterton Junction."

They sat back as the cabbie began to drive them to their destination.

"Why are we going there?"

Sherlock looked out the window, an expressionless look on his face. His hands were folded together neatly on his lap. He spoke to the window, but John heard every word.

"I've seen that before." He nodded his head to the photographs. It was one of my first few cases working for Scotland Yard. I found out the murderer, and their motives, but there were so many things I couldn't deduce. This is an exact replica of that crime. We are going to get help from the one person who can understand it."

John was amazed. The fact that Sherlock would admit to needing help was one thing, but it was another thing entirely for him to say this person would know more than he. Suddenly, John got a very bad feeling about this.

"And who would that be?"

Sherlock smiled at this. "The murderer, Seb."

John's gut tightened. "Seb, like Sebastian? The banker?"

"Of course not," Sherlock sneered.

"Seb the schoolgirl."

John just stared. Had he heard right? "Sorry, what-"

"Yes, John, you heard me right. Here." The cab stopped and, after paying the cabbie, Sherlock and John approached the gates of a primary school. He couldn't be serious, could he? They stood outside. Sherlock checked his phone for the time and said brightly, "There, they should be letting out in three... two... one...-" A bell rang and seconds later, the doors of the school opened to reveal the mass of students eager to leave. Sherlock studied each and every one of them as they walked by to join their parents. The consulting detective and his blogger were getting some suspicious stares from parents who had probably never seen them before and were wondering what two strange blokes were doing at a primary school. Almost all of the students had left, and the few still coming didn't seem to interest Sherlock. Just then, a girl about 10 or 11 years old walked out, her nose stuck in a large science text book and a full, heavy looking back slung over one shoulder. Her hair was curly and dark brown like Sherlocks, and it was even cut short like his, just a bit longer, and held out of her eyes by a black flower hair clip. She had light skin and was petite, wearing the white and blue school uniform. She walked down the path then took a right away from them. Sherlock watched her with a straight face, then said loudly, "I suppose you'll be needing a lab for that experiment."

The girl stopped dead in her tracks and whipped around, dropping the book. She took one look at Sherlock and she dropped her bag and was running.

"SHERLOCK!" The girl screamed as she raced towards the man, who now bore a genuine, happy smile as he knelt down with his arms out to receive her. She crashed into his arms and hugged him tightly.

"Sherlock, where've you been? I missed you!"

"Hello, Seb." Sherlock chuckled. He picked her up (she was just so small compared to him!) and held her at Johns eye level. "John Watson, Sebrina Wallace."

John went slack-jawed looking at her and Sherlock. Even their expressions were identical, ones of superior intellect and silent judgement. The only differences were that her skin was a tad darker, and her eyes were silvery metallic green. And then, as if it couldn't get any more eerie, she asked him a single question.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

**I bet you all have questions, and they will be answered...NEXT CHAPTER! Please review. I won't continue unless I get three reviews. Meow!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I was so pleased by your reviews (and I had the computer all day which is really unusual) I decided to post chapter two now. I know it's only a few days after I posted chapter one, but I was having a really good day for writing, so here you are. Thank you so very much to my first reviewers, Thecumberbitch, romana45, Davidtennantlover10, kit9082 and AJP910 for your support. I would especially like to thank Tabby for the warm, inspiring review. It made my day! I don't own Sherlock, but I wish I did! Enjoy!**

John had never pictured Sherlock as a person to get along with children, but since this little girl had done exactly as Sherlock when she first met him, he really wasn't surprised. And now, they were sitting in the cab on the way from the orphanage where the girl, Sebrina, lived. After signing her out for the day and letting her go grab a change of clothes from her room, they headed back to Scotland Yard. She was currently sitting between them with the change of clothes in a bag on her lap, staring up a John with inquisitive grey-green eyes.

"So, how did you meet Sherlock Mister Watson?" she asked. He looked down at her and gave a half smile. She was cute, but it was just so... eerie, like looking at a young, female Sherlock.

"You can call me John," he said, and she smiled. "Sherlock and I were introduced by a friend, and then he deduced me in his lab. We've been living together ever since-" he stopped when she gasped.

"Sherlock! You didn't tell me he was your boyfriend!" She looked John up and down while he spluttered, then she grinned and said, "It's cute. You made a good choice." Sherlock gazed at her blankly.

"No!" John shouted loudly, causing the cabbie to turn around. He smiled weakly and waved. The cabbie just shrugged and turned back to the road. He controlled his voice, speaking to a disappointed looking Sebrina.

"No, look, Sherlock and I just share a flat. I'm not gay. I'm his blogger."

"I know. I read the blog every day. I read Sherlocks website too." She smiled happily.

Sherlock placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair lightly. "Seb is somewhat of a student of mine. She has a much brighter mind than anyone her age. Well actually she's much more clever than anyone in the precinct."

John looked between them. The display of affection Sherlock gave to the little girl was equal to the amount he showed John. It was unnatural, really. But John was happy there was someone else in the world who didn't hate Sherlock.

"So, are you two related?" John asked, though the answer was obviously yes.

"No." Sherlock gave John a stern look. "Really John, don't be an idiot. Mycroft doesn't even have a dog and his cake consumption problem would prevent him from being a proper father, and I have no other living relatives. No, Seb rather likes to imitate my outward appearance." When John still didn't understand, Sherlock went into show-off mode.

"Look, obviously she curls her hair, and with a Tourmaline Curling Rod, judging by the extra shine. She has recently switched types of curlers from Titanium. The scars on the neck, low enough not to be seen by the normal eye but still barely visible to someone who knows they're there, too low and too numerous to be accidental, signifies abusive family members with possessive motives. They wanted to see the pain they had caused her, but not let anyone else see. Were she in my family, those scars would not exist. And of course her legs."

John was struggling to keep up. "Her legs?"

"Covered by faded white stockings, but strong, often used. The material is unusually unwrinkled. She wears them often, but why? Cold? Possible, but it is warm and they are worn with holes. She's had them for a long time. The material is faded, but clean, unlike the rest of the clothes which are wrinkled in places and a bit dusty. The stockings hold sentimental value, or are being used to cover something else. My family would have provided her with new ones at the first sign of damage. And last but not least, her shoes, worn from running but clearly new judging from the shine on the tops and the clean, bright buckles. Since it's highly unlikely that she replaces the buckles or shines her shoes at this age, I would conclude that she has to get new shoes often. No, Seb is not related to me. She was involved in the case I was telling you about earlier."

Ah, the case. "That was brilliant!" Wait... The case! John realized something then.

"Wait, you said that Seb was... so then- she can't be the murderer!" They stared at him, confirming his thoughts. He went wide eyed and his jaw dropped. "My god... Sherlock, she's a killer? Why are we sitting in a confined space with her then.?" John backed away as best as he could, his back pressing against the door. He had been so shocked by the little happy reunion, that he had forgotten Sherlock said they were going to see the murderer of a previous case, and that the name was Seb.

Sebrina turned to look up at Sherlock. "A little slow on the uptake, isn't he?"

Sherlock nodded and gave John a reassuring look. "Yes, Seb murdered her parents when she was seven years old. They were abusive and possessive as I said before. She had been locked in that house for years, nothing to do, and no one to call. Her only pastime was reading. She was a naturally smart girl, and read many things, including instructions on making home-made bombs and detonating them. Then she found my website and digested every word she read about using the science of deduction and logic. She was particularly interested in the scientific aspect of it, copying all of my experiments, including one that gave instructions on making a particularly powerful sedative drug of my own creation from scratch. She emulated this, and put the drug inside her parents toothpaste, as she was not big enough to reach the wine cabinet. Their reflexes slowed considerably and their minds clouded, they were easy to kill."

Sebrina tugged on his sleeve and he let her take over. She looked up at John, who had slid back down onto his seat.

"I did everything to them that they did to me, except amplified. But they were never able to break my heart, so I let them have theirs. I'm sorry if you think I'm a bad girl, but..." Her eyes began to tear up and she wiped them furiously, glaring at her shoes. "They hurt me, called me bad names. I wish I didn't do it, but-" She couldn't stop the tears from sliding slowly down her face, nor the shudders that jerked her body. John instantly felt terrible, and put an arm around her shoulders, patting her back. Her moment of weakness subsided, but she sat there still, comfortable in the blonde former doctors arms.

"I figured out it was her in the end, but I believed her motives to be just, though rather disturbing at her age. Had I not begun to teach her properly, she would have most likely become another Moriarty." Sherlock spoke in a quiet, baritone voice that instantly brought comfort to both of the other passengers. A few moments later, the cab stopped, and Scotland Yard appeared outside the window.

***linelinelinelinelinelinelinelinelinelinelinelinel ineline-thisisalineyoucannotdenythatthisisaline***

Inside the precinct, Lestrade was getting ready to text Sherlock the results when he walked through the door, John walking behind him.

"Sherlock, you were right. High amounts of morphine in the toothpaste. How did you know?"

Donovan crossed her arms and glared at him. "Yeah, freak. How _did_ you know?" Then, she spotted Sebrina gripping Sherlocks coat as the man muttered to himself, "Morphine, that doesn't fit..." The woman took a step back.

"What the- how- who the hell is that?" She all but shouted and pointed at the mini-lock, attracting the attention of Anderson and others in the office. Lestrade stared slack-jawed at the girl.

"Well, that was discreet," John grunted rolling his eyes.

Sherlock took her hand in his own and brought her forward.

"Seb, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade. Lestrade, Sebrina Wallace is going to be helping John and I on this case. She will have access to all records taken, all evidence, and the bodies, but I can handle the last one myself. Really Donovan you shouldn't stare." Actually, no one had taken their eyes off of the little girl, who fidgeted under all the eyes. She tugged Sherlocks sleeve again.

"I want to change. Where is the restroom?" Sherlock smiled brightly and said, "Sally here will show you, won't you now? We have a case to solve. Lets not waste any time shagging our coworker while his wife's away." John would have laughed had the situation not been as it was. Still too stunned to retort, Donovan settled for glaring at Sherlock and pulling her skirt down a tad over her knees. Sebrina smiled up at her and the dark skinned woman looked to Lestrade for orders. he nodded and she reluctantly led the little girl to go change.

Everyone stood there for a moment before Lestrade shouted, "All of you, get back to work. We have a case to solve." He turned to Sherlock with the most clueless and embarrassed look on his face.

"Sherlock, would you mind telling me why the hell we have a child working on a murder case?"

"Hmm, yes, I would mind." Sherlock gave him a look that said _this is over. _John sighed and brushed past Sherlock, going into Lestrade's office.

"She's seen this before, and she might know how to catch the criminal. She's a bright girl, like, Sherlock level bright. Oh, stop looking at me like that." Sherlock had been glaring stubbornly at him the whole time they were in the room while Lestrade just looked confused. "What d'you mean she's seen it before?"

John raised his eyebrows at Sherlock, who growled out a sigh. "The case four years ago labeled the Wallace Mystery Murder, dreadful name really. She was the daughter of the two who were killed. I believe she can help, since this case is an exact replica of that one, except for the drug."

He went silent, his chin resting on one hand as he stared out the window. "The drug?"

"Yes, this killer used morphine. The other used one that... isn't on record. They put the drug inside the toothpaste in the first, which is how I knew it would be the same. The person we're looking for has insight to the crime that even I do not. Ordinarily I would suspect the girl, but I happen to know her exact whereabouts every minute of every day, and I can tell you that she was in class on the day of the murder. So, I need her help."

Just then, the door slammed open to reveal a wet, angry Donovan, and a stone faced Sebrina beside her. She now looked like Sherlock more than ever. She wore the same long black coat as he with a violet dress shirt barely visible underneath, long black pants, black boots, and to top it all off, a dark blue scarf tucked inside the long-coat.

"Sally, what-"

"This thing!" she said, gesturing to Sebrina. John saw Sherlock tense and his own fist clenched.

"This-this freak! That's what it is! It's a little freak, just like him!" She pointed a finger at Sherlock. "She's just a little monster. You keep her. Keep her away from me!" And with that, Sally left, presumably to dry her hair. Two men watched her go while a man and a little girl had a staring contest.

"Seb, what exactly happened?"

**Who wants to know what happened? Me! Well, we will all have to wait until I come up with the beginning for chapter three. I have the entire chapter planned out, except the beginning. Review for a faster update! Meow!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all once again my reviewers, especially Tabby. But really, every single review helps me out greatly. I wrote this chapter thinking, "Oh my god, they are going to hate me!" So, please, enjoy, review! I don't own Sherlock, just Seb.**

Seb and Sherlock stared at each other for a long while before the girl gave in and said with a straight, serious face,

"She called you a freak and said you were a pedophile, so I deduced her and her affair with someone else who works here. And she took a jab at you and John and said that you were probably shagging, so when she turned around, I pushed her into the toilet. I don't think it was uncalled for, do you?" Her big, green-grey eyes looked up innocently into Sherlocks ice-blue ones.

If Lestrade was afraid of the mini-lock before, he was downright terrified now. It must have showed, because she turned a hawkish eye to him when Sherlock looked away.

"Well really Seb, was it absolutely necessary for you to push her?"

She blinked. "Yes."

John and Sherlock stared at her for a moment before the latter shrugged and patted her head, making her dark curls bounce. "Very good. Come along John, we're going!"

"Wait, what do you mean 'very goo'-augh! Forget it..." The ex army doctor followed the clones out the door, files in hand. "So where are we going?" he asked as they hailed another cab, the third one that day.

"The morgue!" Sherlock checked his phone, doing something John wouldn't understand. Actually, he was checking out reports of missing sedatives in hospitals close to where the murder happened. There were none. The murderer was either very clever, used bribery, or worked at the hospital. Probably the latter since the drugs were injected into the toothpaste with a very fine needle, so someone who had access to thin instruments probably used for blood work.

Sherlocks thoughts raced as he went through the information in his head.

_So, doctor._

_Access to fine instruments._

_Morphine: Not powerful enough in that dosage and with the type of administration, so unnecessary, meant to throw me off. Also meant to make the case seem more authentic._

_No sign of forced entry and they were sitting comfortably where they were, killed on their sofa, so someone they knew and trusted._

_A doctor they see regularly._

"You didn't tell Lestrade that the sedative from the first case was your own."

_Speaking of doctors..._

"Of course not, John. That would turn the blame on me, and proving my innocence, while painfully simple, would be a major setback."

"But-"

"Mind Palace."

And Sherlock went back to his little brain castle, saying random words now and again. Meanwhile, John and Sebrina were sitting silently beside each other, one feeling awkward, the other also in a makeshift Mind Palace. John looked at the both of them, how their hands were pressed together under their hands as if in prayer,how alike they looked in thinking, muttering to themselves without a care in the world except for the case. John envied them. They were so clever, and just so amazingly brilliant (well, he couldn't really say that for Sebrina because he hadn't known her long.) He sometimes wished he had their ability, but thinking of all the hate they get from others, and he is happy to be Sherlocks friend.

"Woman," Sebrina said suddenly. At the exact same moment, Sherlock said, "Man."

They looked at each other.

"What makes you think it was a woman?"

"What makes you think it was a man?"

John looked between them as they frowned at each other.

"Alright, girls. Can we do this another time?" He went unanswered as they battled, stepping out of the taxi and walking into the morgue.

"The killer had access to their private restroom. Obviously a doctor they knew well and trusted enough to let into their home and out of their sight. Even male doctors are typically not that well trusted. The abrasions on the head, made by a thin, hard instrument but the marks, located on the arms, head, and genital areas of the man, weren't too deep in the skin, less severe which shows a weaker hit or a displeasure of getting blood on ones self, clearly a woman. Perhaps someone with a hatred for the man or men in general."

"Or, it was my suspect using a woman to commit the crime. Really Seb, you haven't thought of him already? Something that is so obviously a ploy to grab my interest."

"Are-are we really doing this here? The bodies are-"

"Of course, but I also knew the same thing was running through your mind so I thought to make another assumption."

"That was unnecessary, though well deduced. No, we are definitely dealing with him."

"Hold on, d'you mean Moriarty?"

"But isn't it important who he used?"

"Yes, but we can deal with that later."

"Forget it, just ignore me, that's fine."

"Oh I'm sorry John. Did you say something?"

"Nothing. You just go on with your friend."

They arrived at their destination, a confused Sherlock, a resentful Seb, and an angry John. Walking in unannounced, they saw Molly examining the bodies with a sick face.

"Hello Molly. Enjoying our friendly company?" Sherlock said, startling the poor girl. She jumped and turned around, laughing in relief.

"Oh! S-Sherlock. It's just you- and John. Hello." She paused for an awkward moment. "Umm, you startled me."

"Yes. Very good, well this is Sebrina Wallace. She will be assisting in this case." He gestured to the little girl and Molly gasped. "Seb, this is Molly Hooper, my lab assistant when I come here."

"Oh my god, is she yours? No no, that's a silly question. You're not in a relationship... are you?" Molly looked at him fearfully.

"Of course not. She is my... apprentice, in a way."

"Oh," she said with a smile. "That's very sweet! I didn't know you liked kids."

"I don't." Sherlock brushed past the relieved girl and moved to examine the bodies, all former disgust vanished, leaving Seb and John to stand with Molly.

"We'll only be a short while, sorry," John said staring at Sherlocks back, watching his friend examine the corpses. Meanwhile, Molly acquainted herself with the Mini-Lock.

"So, you're Sherlocks apprentice? I guess that's why he's letting you tag along then, to see some hands on experience?" Seb shook her head.

"No, Sherly needs my help on the case, because I've seen all of this before. I'm here to assist, like John."

"Oh," Molly paled. At the same time, John commented with a snicker, "Sherly?" He glanced at Sherlock, who was giving him a most irritated look.

"I thought I told you not to call me that in public." The detective turned his eyes to Seb who smiled and hid behind Johns legs, sticking out her tongue playfully. Sherlock wasn't able to suppress the ghost of a smile that flashed across his face. It was amazing to the ex- army doctor how childish they were being now, when they had been so serious and... socially challenged before. Now, if anything, they seemed normal, like a brother and sister out for a walk or something. It was nice.

Molly stood there awkwardly, glancing between them, then cleared her throat loudly, making the object of her affections look at her.

"Oh Molly, would you be a dear and grab me some coffee? Black, two sugars. Any for you John?" John shook his head. Molly nodded meekly, and rushed out. Before she had gone far, Seb raced up to her and tugged on her white lab coat. Seb looked up with her metallic green eyes and said, "Black, six sugars please."

"Three." Sherlock crossed his arms frowning. Seb mirrored him.

"Five."

"Four."

"Four-and-a-half."

"Very well."

The little girl smiled at the older woman and nodded. "Black, four-and-a-half sugars please. And some honey?" Molly, overwhelmed by the sudden and numerous demands simply nodded and left, feeling a headache coming on.

"Well, that was amazing." Johns words surprised the two.

"What do you mean?" they asked simultaneously.

John smiled and shook his head. He looked between the two confused geniuses and chuckled. They were so much alike (especially the adorable clueless faces), but so very different. How Seb was much more polite and how playful she was with the acclaimed sociopath. She took care to defend those she cared about by being slightly more physical, as seen this morning, and she seemed the more normal of the two really. At least, if you didn't think about the fact that she killed her parents.

"Just you two, you're so abnormal, that when you're together it seems, well, normal, nearly."

The clones traded questioning looks, then shrugged. John sighed at their utter ignorance and leaned against the wall, waiting for the girl to go into show-off mode. Seb walked over to the examination table and stood on tiptoe between the two dead people. Her eyes were visibly analyzing every detail.

**SEBRINA'S MIND**

_Incision on the stomach deep and wide, but with multiple shallower in that area suggesting many attempts or inexperience. Inexperience is unlikely._

_Large blade, but dull. Often used, probably one specifically designed for cutting meat, A butchers knife perhaps, from the kitchen. Mental note to ask about missing kitchen ware. _

_Smaller cuts made with a precision instrument. Possible options: scalpel, buck knife, razor blade._

_Most likely a scalpel, because of suspected occupation of killer._

_Killer could be seeking revenge. _

_There are few abrasions on her body, and many on the male genitalia, signifying a deep animosity towards the man. The abrasions are pre-mordom, probably the first things to come in the murder judging by the bruise pattern. They wanted to cause pain, but the cuts on the woman were not producing enough blood, and were fare too clean, post mordom. _

_We're looking for a female doctor, possibly lesbian or with a grudge against him, and the wife was simply a witness, need to die. The marks and killers motive were used for authenticity. Obviously being manipulated by someone who knows the fine points of my crime. Someone smart. Moriarty, obviously._

_He even got the symmetry right. The message, yes, perhaps I should tell Sherly... He hadn't figured that out yet._

**END SEBRINA'S MIND  
**

"What did you get?" Sherlock asked her as she turned back around.

"Not much." She blinked, faintly noticing the reappearance of Molly with the coffee.

"What? Not much? That's it? Wait no, you found something." John tried to figure it out while they ignored him.

"Miss Molly, would you mind showing me any photographs taken of these body's? Preferably the arms and neck?" She took her coffee from a confused Molly and went back to the body of the male victim, sipping her hot beverage as she stared at the pale, mutilated flesh.

"Umm, I don't think we have any. N-not of the necks, but I could try and get you one if you like."

Seb smiled. "Yes please." Molly went into the next room to fetch her camera.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his apprentice.

"I thought of that with your case, but my findings were inconclusive."

Sebrina only giggled. "Yes. tell me which combinations you tried."

"Combinations? Sherlock, what is she talking about?" John asked.

"I'm back. I'll get those pictures shall I?" Molly walked back in.

"On the victims of the first case, John. I thought that the markings on their arms were some sort of coded message that, when they were combined to overlap, would tell me more about the killer. I tried the right arm and left arm of one victim and did the same with the other then alternated arms and victims, and the neck markings as well, but as I said, my findings were inconclusive." He stared at Seb, waiting for her answer. She nodded. John looked amazed. Such a young girl was smart enough to create her own secret code- that even the great Sherlock Holmes couldn't crack. It was astounding!

"You were right. I hid a message in the cuts, but your combinations were all wrong. Miss Molly, when can I get those photos? Soon?" Molly had been silently clicking away. When her name was spoken, she jumped and looked down.

"Yes, I'll... fax them?"

"Excellent! We should go now, I've got school tomorrow and it's getting late." Indeed it was. John checked his watch. It had been 3:30 when they had picked up Seb from school, and it was 9:17 now. Time flies when you're running around with two of the smartest people in the world. They said goodnight to Molly and left for the orphanage, calling a cab to take them there. Seb seemed a little off. She was quiet the whole way back, not even asking about tomorrow.

"We'll come after school tomorrow to pick you up, and then you can help me decipher the code." She grinned from ear to ear at Sherlocks words.

"So, if Sherlock couldn't crack your code, then who could?" John had a bad feeling that he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear them say it.

"Well," she began, "I did create the code, and I never told anyone else how to use it, and I never wrote it down. it was all memory. Sherly came very close to cracking it, really. This person has to be s smart as us to be able to understand it enough to use it. In fact, they would have to have as deep an understanding as the one who committed the first crime, me. The only person in the world who it could be has already crossed your mind Mister John." She gave him a knowing green look. "You know who it is."

"We all do." Sherlock looked at John, who voiced a single, strained word.

"Moriarty."

The rest of the cab ride was filled with simple conversations, mostly between Seb and John, who, within 6 hours of knowing her, had grown quite fond of the little girl. She described her experiments with Sherlock, which included an exciting tale of them making her first bomb from scratch, and he told her about all the things the detective did at home: leaving heads in the fridge, eyes in the microwave, coming home bloody with a harpoon, shooting the smiley face on the wall out of boredom. As it happens, she knew about the harpoon incident, and apparently played a part in it. But she wouldn't tell more. And they had arrived at their destination too soon for John to ask about it.

Before she jumped out, Seb gave Sherlock a tight hug around the waist, and even kissed him on the cheek. Then, she hugged John. For some reason, he didn't want her to leave...

John was awoken in the middle of the night by a phone call, and Sherlock too.

They had arrived home sometime past ten and received Molly's fax shortly before going to sleep. Well, John went to sleep. Sherlock stayed up in his room playing his violin softly, but John could still hear it. it was a hauntingly beautiful tune of Sherlocks composition, and soon, John fell asleep to it. Then the phone woke him at 2:00. Sherlock was the first there, and as John was pulling himself across the floor he heard the phone drop. Awake now, he rushed to the kitchen where he saw Sherlock staring at the black device. The taller man grabbed it up and spoke hurriedly into it.

"Yes, yes it is. What's wrong?"

The voice on the other line, female, answered.

"There's been a break in at the orphanage. Miss Wallace asked us to call you- please hurry!"

**I already know what I'm going to do next, and I can guarantee you'll all love it. Review for a faster update! Meow!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Sorry it took so long for me to update! And I'm super sorry about the shortness of the chapter. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers who continually visit this humble story. Please, review if you want there to be an extra long chapter 5. Enjoy!**

John had never seen Sherlock so emotionless. It was scary.

But really, there were so many things going on in his mind that he couldn't possibly show it in his face, so he chose to hide it. John could easily see right through that.

"Sherlock, are you alright?"

"Yes fine." His friend had answered too quickly.

They were sitting in a police car with Lestrade driving and another officer in the passenger seat. The DI looked back at Sherlock with his rear view mirror worriedly, then returned his eyes to the road. Even he noticed the abrupt change in his... friends behavior. Sherlock fidgeted for a minute or so, then watched things go past the window. He couldn't see much for the time of night, but it was an excuse not to talk. Suddenly, he slapped the glass separating them from Lestrade angrily.

"Can't this thing go any faster? Or are you afraid of running over the nonexistent oncoming cars. Come on!"

"Sherlock, it's the speed limit. Besides, the crime is over, no one's in any more danger. Donovan and Anderson are already there."

"Donovan? All the more reason to HURRY UP."

However, despite what had been said to a now pouting Sherlock, John felt the car speed up ever so slightly. He let a small smile slip onto his features. They arrived in another 5 minutes, and walked quickly up the stone path towards the orphanage. Sally met them at the door, her face grim.

"What are we dealing with?" Lestrade asked, at the same time as Sherlock said, "Where's Sebrina?" They glanced at each other.

Sally chose to ignore Sherlock, though she spared him a glance, and replied to her co-worker.

"One dead, and you'll never believe this. The same markings as the older couple in Dalton."

Sherlock walked up to her angrily and grabbed her shoulders.

_"Sebrina."_ he ground out.

Sally looked afraid. "Inside."

The dark man pushed past her and disappeared inside the building. John nodded and walked past the other two, excusing himself and his friend.

"Sherlock, hang on," John called. He followed the trail of officers and forensics specialists to the waiting room where Sherlock was sitting on an ugly mauve sofa with a shaking Sebrina on his lap. Sherlocks arms were wrapped protectively around her frail body with his head resting atop her mess of curls. The unusual scene was drawing much attention from the people there. The blonde doctor shuffled over quietly and sat down beside them. Seb was wearing a blue nightgown with little fuzzy slippers and a darker blue bath robe, not unlike the one Sherlock often wore.

_Poor thing_.

As he thought this, Sebrina sat up and turned to look at him. Her green orbs were a little red from crying, and she was sucking on her index finger.

"You alright Seb?"

She nodded and took her finger out of her mouth, showing it to him. There was a small cut that was deep, and already beginning to bleed.

"I didn't want anyone but you to touch it. I got cut on some broken glass. Will you wrap it up please?" With those big, pleading eyes, who could say no? As John was bandaging her finger, Sherlock was looking over to where Anderson was watching from the doorway.

"Glass?" he asked.

Anderson frowned at him. "Cleaned up, not that it was my job in the first place. Somehow I always get stuck cleaning up-"

"Thank you, now go outside. Your presence is contaminating the evidence. Seb, John, with me."

Sherlock and his two friends brushed past Anderson and up the stairs, Seb holding both of their hands. Children's eyes peeked out from behind their doors as curiosity got the best of them. The three stopped outside a room in the middle of the hallway. The door was ajar, allowing them to see the face of the child, a girl a little older than Sebrina. She had wide eyes and an open mouth, gagged with something white. They entered hastily and shut the door behind them.

"She was my roommate. I didn't really like her, too clingy. But she wasn't bad."

Marks similar to those on the other two victims from Dalton littered the girls arms and neck. Sebrina let go of John and Sherlock and knelt down to examine the body. She had been suffocated with a pillow that had saliva and blood on it. But there was still the gag.

Carefully, Seb took out a glove, put it on, and extracted the gag, a white hankie. She smoothed it out and let Sherlock and John read it over her shoulder.

_With love, from JM 3_

Seb took in a shuddering breath and laid it down. She turned her eyes next to the cuts on the body.

The cuts were the only markings on her. John watched as Sebrina got close and tilted the chin back to look at the neck. Then, she walked over to an empty bed and bent over to retrieve a pencil and notebook from under it. She walked back over and sat down, recording the markings and making different combinations that frankly confused John. She explained while she worked.

"See, I did combine the right arms and left arms of each victim, then I laid the neck markings over top of the combination with the corresponding right arm, and it creates letters. For example, The old woman's right arm was paired with the old mans left arm, and then the neck cuts on the old lady were laid over top of those. However, with this one, you have to combine the right arm with the markings from the left arm, but you need to turn the left arm's markings upside down first. Then you add the neck markings. There are dots on the neck to signify where there is no extra third symbol for a letter, and when combining, you give the neck markings a 90 degree turn clockwise. Then you have exactly 25 letters that, when strung together, mean absolutely nothing. Then, you lay the numbers out in five rows of 5, like a tic-tac-toe board, except with more squares. You write the letters in the order they come, starting over just below the last line with the next sequence of 5 numbers. Like so." She stopped her quick talking to show them her diagram.

HTATBITYLRWOLEIAPISNNLTEA

HTATB

ITYLR

WOLEI

APISN

NLTEA

"If you organize them as such, then write them out by columns, you can understand it." She wrote out the letters again in a different combination, then again with punctuation.

HIWANTTOPLAYLITTLESEBRINA

HI! WANT TO PLAY, LITTLE SEBRINA?

**Ooh! Who liked that? Tell me, was the idea for her secret code alright. Review! Meow!**


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